


Fallout

by entanglednow



Series: Lucifer Bound [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonding, M/M, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam is in trouble, Dean is not an idiot and no one trusts Lucifer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallout

It's three miles back to the motel.

Sam's missing his jacket and his socks. He has no idea where the demons put them. But his feet are slipping around uncomfortably inside his boots and it's not t-shirt weather. He doesn’t feel the cold though. Which - that's maybe adrenaline, or unease, or the trailing edges of whatever happened in that room. Because in their world sex magic binding rituals did not end like this. Sex magic binding rituals in their world should end up with death and blood and bargains and things falling apart. That's what they do, that's what life does to them.

God, it's messed up that he's so unsettled about no one trying to kill him.

But, at least he's dressed, at least he's _walking_.

Lucifer was dressed again the minute Sam was. Sam wants to protest again, wants to strongly object at the very least, to Lucifer following him. But, he's not entirely sure there's any way he could stop him. His first thought had been to try to think of some way to get back to the motel without him. But from the moment Sam had shoved his way out of what turned out to be an old barn, bright sunlight slamming straight into his eyes and blinding him, he'd realised that this might be their one opportunity to get Lucifer where they wanted him.

Where they could kill him.

There's that sense of unease again at things apparently going their way for once.

"Your obsession with killing me is strangely touching. So much focus. I can appreciate focus, Sam. Your focus and your anger are almost beautiful. But unnecessary." Lucifer sounds for all the world like they just went out for a stroll.

"Get out of my head," Sam snaps.

There's a short drag of feet on gravel behind him, as if Lucifer has stopped abruptly.

"I'm incapable of harming you at present, Sam. Or, I suspect, of allowing you to come to harm. Though this is an insidious and frustrating realisation, considering how easily human beings break. How easily your cells come apart. It's amazing you manage to make it to adulthood at all. How you're not all slowly rotting where you stand, being eaten by birds and insects."

Sam makes a noise and stops, looks over his shoulder. Lucifer's staring curiously at an ants nest by the side of the road. Sam's pretty sure all of humanity looks like that to him. Hell, he probably likes the ants better. They don't try and have ideas.

"Forgive me if I don't believe your assurances," Sam says and starts walking again. "Considering your whole plan since you got out of hell has been forcing me to say yes to being your vessel. I wouldn't put it past you to be playing some sort of elaborate trick."

"This would be an interesting method of trying to gain your cooperation, or your sympathy," Lucifer agrees. "But it isn't."

"Yeah, well don't be all surprised if I don't believe you."

"You're a means to an end, Sam. A special one, a very special one, one of a kind. But a tool nonetheless. "

"I feel so loved," Sam says, and the devil seems to understand sarcasm at least. Maybe they get a lot of sarcasm in hell.

"Your purpose made you special, from the day you were born," Lucifer adds, like that might help in some messed up angel way. Being a tool in their world of obedience and non-existent free will. Like anyone else actually gives a shit about Lucifer's plans to destroy mankind. To destroy everything maybe.

"Special is overrated," Sam says harshly. "And you can't tell me you're not trying to think up some way to break this. To fix it and go back to planning out ways to wear me like a suit of clothes."

"Yes," Lucifer allows. "I'm thinking exactly that."

Sam huffs something angry and unsurprised.

"But thinking it is one thing," Lucifer says. "Making it a reality is, it seems, currently out of my reach."

Sam's still not entirely sure about that. But the fact that Lucifer hasn't done anything. The fact that he's acting like this isn't complete bullshit. Sam's veering closer and closer to wondering if this messed up thing has actually happened. But there's just that strange flat calm from behind him. Sam would be furious if he was the one tied to Lucifer's wants. He'd be fighting like hell in a fury of righteous indignation.

He sneaks a look over his shoulder.

Lucifer's hiding his fury really well.

There's a payphone on the edge of town and Sam ignores Lucifer and digs in his pocket. Stupidly grateful the demons didn't steal all his change when they decided to drag him off for a session of sex and binding ritual. Though he's briefly amused by his surprise that demons left him his change. They're demons. There are probably easier way of finding out how to roll around in money. Sam's eleven dollars were probably never in any danger.

If nothing else he should give Dean warning. Because If this was a trick they were going to be ready for it. Though he's not entirely sure what he's going to say until Dean picks up the phone.

"Dean?"

"Sam, where the hell are you?" Dean sounds worried, which isn't surprising since it's morning, well past morning. Sam's not wearing a watch.

Sam looks up, but the devil seems more interested in the line of dusty cars parked outside the diner. He's wearing a - no, screw it, Sam doesn’t need to know the time that badly.

"That's kind of a complicated story and I don't have enough change," Sam admits. The plastic of the phone is warm and smells like tobacco and grease.

There's a pause.

"Cliff notes version then."

Sam scratches the back of his neck and takes a breath. Because he's more than aware of how ridiculous this is going to sound. More ridiculous than usual. Even for them.

"Umm, I got dragged off by demons, put through some sort of ritual they had planned for me. That they had planned for me and Lucifer. Only they messed it up and now instead of me being bound to his will, he's apparently bound to mine. We're at the diner just outside town."

There's a very long pause.

"Dean?"

Sam thinks he can hear Dean breathing through his nose, and he knows _exactly_ which face his brother's wearing. It will be that angry, disappointed, half disbelieving one. That he always wears when something spectacularly messed up happens and it may or may not be Sam's fault.

Sam wouldn’t blame him if he just hung up on him, he really wouldn’t.

"Jesus, Sam -" the words cut off, Sam thinks Dean has just pulled a hand over his face. There's a rough exhale, too loud and too close. "What are the odds on it being a trap?"

Sam's not entirely sure he wants to trust his own judgement here.

It's Lucifer after all.

"Fifty-fifty."

"Our life is a game show," Dean says tightly. "It's a fucking game show."

Sam waits for the exhale that tells him Dean's decided what to do.

"Ok, get back here, I'm calling Cas, and I'm pulling out all the guns."

Sam hangs up.

The devil's still practicing his 'mostly harmless' routine. Sam doesn't buy it for a minute. In fact the longer it goes on the more disturbing it is.

"If you're even remotely telling the truth you are absolutely not to harm Dean, or Castiel," he says slowly.

Lucifer's face doesn't change in the slightest.

Sam doesn't have a room key, and it was dark when they took him. But he knows they're in room 9. He knocks on the door. He's fairly sure Dean's standing just to the side of it, but it still takes a good handful of seconds to open.

The very first thing Dean does is shoot Lucifer in the chest.

Twice.

Which as introductions go, feels very Winchester appropriate. It gets him an irritated expression from Lucifer, but one that doesn't look surprised in the slightest. There's a pause while the world holds its breath. Maybe just to see if Lucifer will try anything.

Lucifer picks metal out of his chest in a lazy and unimpressed sort of way and doesn't offer anything in the way of violent retaliation. Dean expression is some sort of tangled up mixture of relief and disappointment. He eventually sniffs and lowers the gun, just a little.

"Ok, lets try the full version," he says stiffly.

Sam starts at the beginning. From where he was jumped in the middle of town. He gives descriptions of the demons, the place he woke up. The symbols on the walls. What he could figure about their meaning. He very carefully doesn’t mention _how_ he woke up. Or the fact that his whole body is still slowly coming down from a post-magic high, three mile walk or not.

Dean either doesn't see the gaps or he's filling them in, and not giving any sign of it.

When he finishes Dean glares at Lucifer.

Sam's fairly sure he's thinking about shooting him again. Just because he knows he can't kill him that way doesn't mean he doesn't want to try. That he hasn't thought about it. In an indulgent sort of way.

"And you only have his word for it?" Dean says with a nod.

"I saw the symbols," Sam protests. "I'm fairly sure the spell was supposed to do exactly what he says it was."

Lucifer's been still throughout Sam's explanation, in that special angel way that's just creepy. No breathing, no fidgeting. Just _stillness._ It strikes him suddenly as weird that there's so much stillness and absolutely no trying to kill each other.

Sam wishes suddenly that Lucifer would say something. Anything.

"I am bound to your brother," Lucifer says. His voice slow and calm. Sam's wonders if he did that. If he should be worried that he might have done that. He'd told the devil to stay out of his head but if he can still hear him. If he still has to do it -

"So you say." Dean's voice is tight and Sam knows he won't believe it until he sees proof.

"He's telling the truth."

Sam and Dean both turn.

Castiel's standing in the middle of the room. Dropped out of nothing, just as still and focused entirely on Lucifer. Sam's not sure how long he's been there. But the expression on his face is equal amounts confusion and surprise.

Dean does lower the gun this time. "What do you mean?"

Castiel comes forward three steps, frowns hard at Lucifer like he's looking through him.

"Sam, Lucifer is indeed bound to you, and not simply either. There are layers upon layers of magic and you are the focal point."

Lucifer's face goes tight.

"I shall have to remember to thank them for their thoroughness," he says quietly. Sam's pretty sure he's going to do nothing of the sort.

"This was intended for you, Sam?" Castiel sounds surprised, turning just enough to make his coat sway and fixing Sam with a heavy look.

"Yeah, apparently the demons who put it in place -" Sam risks a glance at Lucifer "- messed up."

Castiel blinks, and Sam has to wonder exactly how much he sees. How much he knows just by looking.

"And it ended up...this way round instead." Sam can't help but add.

"This would have rendered you incapable of anything, Sam. To use this much magic on a human would have completely destroyed your own will. It seems to have been designed for total domination." Castiel sounds more than a little horrified.

Sam swallows. One decision, one greedy decision while he was completely out of it and Lucifer would have been wearing his face right now. Using it to do all the things he promised he would. For a second the thought is so horrible Sam can't breathe.

"So he really has to do what Sam tells him. " Dean says, and Sam can tell he still doesn't believe it. Dean's gotten too used to there being a catch. Every damn time.

Hell, Sam still doesn't quite believe it himself.

"Some stupid demons screwed up their spell and made him -" Dean jerks his thumb in Lucifer's direction "- Sam's bitch?"

"Inelegant," Castiel says slowly, with a careful look at Lucifer. Perhaps to see if he objected to the term. "But essentially correct."

Dean shakes his head at the confirmation.

"Jesus."

Castiel looks at Sam, like he thinks Sam might want to say something.

Yeah, Sam doesn't feel like expanding on exactly what had gone wrong any time soon, or ever.

But Dean hasn't finished.

"So, he has to what - do whatever says?"

"Yes, I believe Lucifer's now incapable of resisting whatever Sam asks of him. I did not think such a thing was even possible." Sam gets the feeling there's more, but, Cas stops talking. He looks at Lucifer, as if he's not sure whether he should.

Sam's trying to work out exactly what's going on there. Lucifer has no expression on his face, none at all.

Dean looks between both angels. Or angel and devil.

"You don't sound happy about that, Cas?" Dean sounds curious. Worried and curious. Castiel doesn't say anything. But the crease between his eyes says a hell of a lot. None of it good.

Dean nods in Lucifer's direction.

"How can we kill you?" he demands

Lucifer's flat stare is so heavy Sam can almost feel it. But Dean has a good point. Hell, at least he's thinking on his feet. Which is more than Sam managed, obviously.

"Answer him," Sam says. It feels pretty damn weird to be demanding things from the devil.

Lucifer's teeth click, like he attempts to bite down on the words, fails.

"An Archangel's sword."

Dean grunts, like he hadn't expected an answer. To be honest, Sam hadn't expected one either.

"How do we get our hands on one?"

Lucifer practices wilful silence like no one else.

"How do we get our hands on one?" Sam repeats.

"Kill an Archangel," Lucifer says tonelessly.

So, no pressure then.

"How about we just toss holy oil on you and barbecue you. Will that do it?" Dean's voice has dropped to low and threatening.

Castiel looks like he wants to speak. Sam can see him resisting.

Lucifer's eyes slide to the side. He's obviously refusing to answer unless Sam asks. Because Sam knows if he asks the question Lucifer will have to tell the truth.

He swallows. "Will it?"

Lucifer shakes his head, once, stiffly. But that doesn't seem to be enough.

"No," he says quietly.

Dean gets closer than Sam would under the circumstances, close enough to look him in the eye and Lucifer doesn't even twitch.

"But I'm guessing that it wouldn't be fucking pleasant for you would it? I'm guessing that would be a nasty way to burn and _not_ die. Might even mess you up for a while. Maybe a long while."

Because of course Dean thinks that antagonising the devil is a good idea.

"And don't think I wouldn't be perfectly happy about standing here and watching you burn."

Lucifer's eyes narrow.

The air in the room crackles, heavy with the taste of electricity and metal. The weight of it, _God_ the weight of it is incredible.

"Dean." Castiel's voice is as sharp as Sam's ever heard it.

But Dean's on a roll and Sam's fairly sure half a lifetime of fury is going to come out if he doesn't do something.

"Hell, I'd light the match -"

Sam thinks he can taste blood at the back of his mouth.

He puts a hand on Lucifer's chest; it's solid and he's almost too hot to touch, even through his shirt.

"You, outside, now."

He pushes.

Lucifer inhales sharply and clearly has no choice but to take four steps back and Sam's pretty much fine with pushing the door shut and leaving his furious expression outside.

Ok, Sam's not entirely sure that leaving Lucifer leant against the door of a motel in the middle of some random town for any great length of time isn't cause for concern. But he's almost certain the alternative isn't a better choice. He's going to tell Dean as much - except a second after the door shuts, Dean thumps Sam in the arm, hard.

"Ow - Jesus, Dean."

"That's for always managing to go above and beyond the call of duty, Sam."

"Ow, hey, this time it wasn't my fault, god damn it, I didn't ask to end up playing a supernatural version of _Simon Says_ with the devil." Sam rubs his arm and Dean refuses to look guilty at all.

Castiel looks as if he can't decide whether to be sympathetic or not. He keeps shooting glances at the door like he can see through it.

Dean lays his gun down on the table.

"Don't play fucking innocent with me, you and I both know exactly what sort of magic people usually use as a catalyst in a binding ritual."

Crap.

"Stop relying on me to be an idiot because I _will_ fill in the gaps and realise exactly what happened. Do you have any idea how close you came to being a puppet last night."

"I know," Sam snaps out. God, doesn't he think he’s been thinking about it since then.

But Dean hasn't finished.

"And much as I do not want - ever, _fucking ever_ \- to think about exactly what happened. I'm going to choose to be grateful that magically high you is apparently pushy and reckless enough to decide you were going to be on top."

Oh Jesus.

Dean pulls a face, like he's already sorry he was forced to picture it.

Sam has to look sideways at Castiel. Who's wearing the same horribly curious face he always wears when interesting things happen around the Winchesters. Sam still kind of thinks it's judging him.

Or that could just be his imagination.

Dean's still angry, finger shoved up in Sam's face now. Which he almost certainly deserves.

"Considering exactly how this could have gone, I'm going to let it slide just this once. I'm going to consider it a freakin' miracle. And we are never talking about it again."

"If it helps, I don't remember it," Sam says thickly.

"It really doesn't, at all," Dean snaps. "Because that doesn't change the fact that your magical drunken one night stand is the one thing that scares the crap out of pretty much _everything_ we've ever killed, and now he's in our lap."

"You took that to a really bad place," Sam accuses.

"Oh there are worse places I could have taken it to, believe me."

Sam believes him.

"He's being weirdly calm about it," Sam admits. Which, granted, is more extra creepy than reassuring.

"That's because he's probably thinking of all the violent and horrible things he's going to do to us all when he finds a way to break out of it."

"Yeah, I was kind of assuming that too," Sam admits.

He looks at Castiel.

"Can he break out of it?"

The angel's face carefully settles into worried.

"He is putting a great deal of effort into fighting it," Castiel says quietly. "He's burning considerable power inside that body to try and fight it."

"You wouldn't think it to look at him," Sam protests.

"You would be certain of it, if you knew where to look." Castiel now has his 'this is very serious' face on. Which is never a good sign. For them. Never a good sign for them.

Dean slides forward until he's in Castiel's space.

"But can he do it, can he break out of it?"

Castiel pauses, mouth pressed into a line.

"I would have said it was impossible. But it would be wise to make sure."

"Damn right it would be wise to make sure," Dean says flatly. Looks around the room like he's wondering how long it's going to take to pack up all their stuff. Sam knows that look too well. "But I don't think we want to spread it around that we have the devil on a leash."

"He's not on a leash." Sam rubs a hand over his face. "Jesus, Dean."

"Bet if you told him to sit he would," Dean says.

Which is completely unnecessary. With completely unnecessary mental images too.

Sam pulls a face. "Dean, I'm not telling the devil to - Castiel, does he pose a threat to us like this?"

"It would be wise to assume he _always_ poses a threat." Castiel doesn't even have to pause to think about it. "His appearance of calm is a lie and the moment he finds himself in any position of power he will use it. Binding or no."

"But he can't kill us all?" Dean demands.

"Not if Sam's told him not to."

They both look at him.

"You did tell him not too, right?" Dean asks. "You did remember to tell him not to kill me and Cas before you brought him back here?"

"I'm not stupid," Sam protests.

They're _still_ looking at him.

"Yes," Sam says stiffly. "Yes, I told him he couldn't harm you."

"Great, fantastic, so we spend months trying to avoid the devil before we work out some way to kill him and then you sleep with him and bring him home for breakfast."

Sam thought they were never mentioning that again? He rubs his hands over his face and sighs, loudly.

"I did not -"

"Details, Sam. And, much as this makes the job of trying to find him so we can kill him a little easier. This isn't exactly what I had in mind. So, yeah, I'm a little pissed off about that."

"For the moment he has to do as he's told," Sam says quietly.

Dean drags his coat off the back of the chair and starts stuffing things into his bag. Makes a noise in his throat that's half mocking.

"Because obedience worked out _so well_ for Lucifer the first time round."

Jesus, Dean has a point.

"It's not like I trust him either but what else am I going to do?" Sam says helplessly. He's open to suggestions here.

"Pump him for information, turn him out, pack up and get the hell out of dodge," Dean says, like he'd had that planned all along.

"That might be difficult," Castiel offers from where he'd clearly been waiting, just waiting, to give them more bad news.

Dean throws up his hands.

"I _knew_ you were going to say that, I knew it. Nothing's ever easy for us is it. There's always a catch."

Dean tosses his coat down and folds his arms.

"Go on, tell me we have to take Lucifer with us."

Castiel opens his mouth, uncertain.

Dean nods.

"We have to take Lucifer with us." Castiel's using his doom voice.

It's officially the worst day ever.


End file.
